


The Dark Chamber

by XJ_9



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Canon Era, Dom/sub, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Light Choking, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn with Feelings, Return of the King, Sam is a brat lol, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:54:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25100461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XJ_9/pseuds/XJ_9
Summary: Inside the tower of Cirith Ungol, Frodo and Sam are reunited and tenderly share their deepest feelings with one another. However, once Frodo remembers the realities of the Quest, he must grapple with the uncomfortable and uncontrollable fantasies of dominating Sam that the Ring has stirred in him. This is welcomed by Sam, who has been hiding his burgeoning submissive side. Wait, who is taking advantage of who again?
Relationships: Frodo Baggins & Sam Gamgee, Frodo Baggins/Sam Gamgee
Comments: 7
Kudos: 43





	The Dark Chamber

**Author's Note:**

> Q: How much Frodo dialogue do you want to write?  
> A: Yes
> 
> Does this have any right to be so tooth-achingly sweet before becoming absolutely ridiculous? No! But damn, I'm not about to force these pure beings into depravity without giving them a /moment/. Also, please forgive my switching POV, I just cannot resist with these two.
> 
> This is a rewrite of a very low-effort fic I wrote a few years ago. It's been quite expanded upon and a lot more thought put in. I mean, it's still porn, but yeah. Please let me know your thoughts in the comments if you are so inclined!
> 
> Fluff begins with a mildly drunk Frodo who manages to forget about the Ring as he sees Sam again for the first time, then gets increasingly angsty from there. Only read up to the second break if you just want the cute stuff. It's definitely not the average pure and sweet hobbit slash, but angsty ROTK Frodo needs more smut representation. I am only here to provide for my people. Please I cannot be the only one. 
> 
> Also, this made me realize I'm gonna need to write a bratty Frodo at some point so keep an eye out if you're into that. 
> 
> Content warnings (some plot details included):
> 
> Frodo is portrayed as not having any control over his dominance, so consent is not discussed, and he is quite cruel. However, Sam is portrayed as fully enjoying the sexual elements of this, but it certainly wouldn't be a healthy situation IRL. There is some pushing, yelling, and Frodo knocks the breath out of Sam once by accident. Also includes descriptions of an orc forcing Frodo to drink and whipping him (not written as smut).

The air was sucked out of Sam's lungs as he slammed the door of the tower. There was only one way to do this; go up and never stop. He heard the sounds of several orcs far above, and bravely set about what he had to do. 

Sam began winding the elven rope in and around the door handles. And again, and again, and over, and out, and in... _And done_! he thought to himself. Now there was only to take care of what lay ahead on the winding stair. _There's only to sneak up and knock them over the side of the stair, Samwise, surely that ought to take care of most of them, and Sting is here if I'm really in need..._

Sam began his ascent at a run. Winding round and round, focusing only on the placement of his feet- and Frodo. His poor Frodo. Sam had made a vow to himself during his trek into Mordor: If he found Frodo alive, he would get the courage to finally kiss him. A real kiss. One that meant something big; one that showed Frodo exactly how he felt. And Sam had never in his life made a vow he did not keep. 

* * *

  
In the chamber high above, an orc towered over Frodo's head. Frodo lay naked with tears in his eyes, resigned to his fate and staring at the filth between cobbles next to his head. The orc reached down with a gigantic hairy hand, grabbing Frodo by the hair and forcing his mouth open. Frodo did not resist. A bitter liquid was poured down his throat. He sputtered and gagged, struggling to swallow. The orc laughed mockingly.

"That'll keep ya goin', little varmint!" he chided, and raised an ugly gnarled whip as he took a deep swig from the bottle. 

The whip fell with a terrible crack, and Frodo let out a piteous cry. He covered his face with his arms and tensed against another crack, and another, the last of which fell upon the same mark as the first. Frodo screamed and his eyes slammed shut. He saw a blinding sky of white stars. 

The orc was excited into a frenzy by Frodo's writhing, and laughed as his slashes grew a new and terrible fervour. Frodo's mind began floating away, and the whip flew on and on; a fresh glowing poker sizzling into him with every strike. As his vision faded, the orc's cackling seemed to echo into an army of voices roaring with mirth at his defeat. 

Suddenly, there came a foul scream as a struggle filled the room. Sam had arrived, and had cloven the orc's whip hand at the wrist. The orc lunged at him blindly, then fell down onto the landing several stories below. Sam was amazed at this luck, and watched the orc for a moment to ensure he wasn't moving. When he felt it was safe, he slammed the trapdoor closed and ran to the helpless form on the floor.

"Master Frodo!" cried Sam with quavering voice. "I've come!"

But Frodo could hear no more. He floated in a place of no country, where no light and no pain could reach.

Sam sat down before his master, and held the small limp hobbit to his heaving chest. Frodo’s bare skin was cold and clammy, and shadows of ribs were pronounced along his pale side. Sam was pained to gaze upon them. The growing welts left by the whip extended down onto his Master’s behind. "What’ve they done to you," he choked out.

Sam quickly wrapped his cloak round Frodo, then held him closely once again and gently rocked him back and forth like a tot. "Please, Mr. Frodo, if there is any good left in this world... Please, just be alright."

Very slowly, Frodo’s mind began to stir. He opened his eyes and the room spun sickeningly to greet him. But there was cloth against his face, and a warm body held him tightly. His hair was being pet. He tensed, fearing a new and foul torture was in store, and ever so warily cast his glance to assess this strange captor. He saw flaxen hair, and gasped lightly. 

Feeling this movement, Sam pulled back in amazement, gripping Frodo's shoulders and staring into his foggy eyes. "Master! Oh, glory and trumpets, you're alive!"

Frodo's head lolled, looking as if he were 8 ales deep. He furrowed his brow and blinked slowly at Sam. "I feel... strange. Is it really..?" He squinted at Sam. "What's happened? Am I dreaming?"

Sam gripped Frodo's shoulders tighter, smiling expectantly. "No, sir! You're in the tower! I'm here to save you, I've come!"

Frodo perked up slightly with recognition. "Sam!" he said, and clutched at his friend. "But, there was an orc with a whip!" His face fell. "What has happened? I cannot be awake and well… But oh, to see you is a joy I never thought…”

Frodo trailed off as he began to cry rather sloppily. Falling forward, he wrapped his arms around Sam and buried his face deeply in that soft stomach, fists clutching the fabric at Sam's back. Frodo dared not peer up again for fear it would no longer be his beloved companion's face smiling down on him.

Sam felt his shirt grow wet with tears, and gently lifted Frodo’s head up by the chin to kiss his dark hair. Frodo’s pained eyes fixed on the thin window-slit beside them. The cragged land outside was bathed in an oppressive fog, and stretched back into a wall of black mountains. The sky met this menacing horizon in shades of grey and dark bleeding red. 

Sam ran his fingers through the sweaty curls on Frodo’s forehead as he stared at the scene. "I got that orc you saw, and five others, Mr. Frodo. And I came right in the nick of time too, for that biggun' was windin’ up for a real mad slash at you. And that’s the truth,” Sam wiped Frodo's cheek with his knuckle, and Frodo met his gaze.

"I’d sooner take a hundred’s worth of those myself than hear one more crack for you, I swear it,” said Sam seriously.

Sam looked upon his companion's elegant face, and his eyes trailed down to Frodo's lips. Suddenly Sam was feeling desperately nervous. Frodo blinked at him. 

Sam took a deep breath and brought Frodo’s dirty hands to his lips, kissing each knuckle with great tenderness. A spark seemed to light in Frodo's eyes and his mouth turned up a little at the sight. "Oh Sam, I believe you're simply the kindest hobbit I shall ever have the pleasure of knowing," he said. 

Sam gave him an anxious smile as he continued to kiss his hands. Finally, feeling a little emboldened by Frodo's sweet words, he began. "I'm only doin' what's right sir... With you bein' -" He took a breath. "The fairest hobbit I'll ever know, and all," he said quickly, and brought Frodo’s small cloaked figure to his breast in a warm embrace. 

Frodo stared over Sam's shoulder in shock. Did he hear that correctly? _Fairest?_ Slowly, he brought his arms around Sam and hugged him back, unsure if his mind was playing a cruel trick. 

Sam buried his face in Frodo's neck, feeling quite shaky. His nose and forehead were pressed against the light and silky skin between cloak and soft curls. Frodo's eyes widened as he felt Sam's hot breath warm him, and gripped him tighter.

Sam's heart boomed in his ears. _Dammit Gamgee, you're likely to go the rest of your life just starin' at him if you don't do it right this moment_ , he thought. After a moment, he very carefully tilted his head, planting a whisper-light kiss on Frodo's throat. There came a tiny gasp, and Sam felt Frodo's body tighten in his arms. Sam could feel his heartbeat course from his toes through to his shaking fingers now, and his mind flew in every direction. Did Frodo want this? _Well, there's certainly no turning back now_ , he thought, and taking a deep breath he gave another kiss; warm and long as he had always desired.

Frodo's face softened with bliss and he drew a sharp breath, moaning lightly as his head fell back. Sam breathed heavily, intoxicated by this reaction, and kissed again, and again, trailing up to Frodo's delicate jaw. 

Frodo put his hands on Sam’s chest and gripped his shirt, hungrily pulling him closer. His head was swimming, and he found the will of his body impossible to resist. "Oh Sam, I -" he breathed.

Then, safely surrounded by Sam’s sturdy limbs, Frodo leaned in and kissed him. 

Sam moaned as a surge of energy coursed through them. He had not been expecting that. And oh, how soft Frodo's lips were! Such supple smoothness. Their mouths moved together as if they had never been apart. 

Sam reached up to gently grab a fistful of Frodo’s hair, and Frodo’s lithe body grew limp with desire, leaning into Sam. He broke their embrace for a moment. 

"Love you. I love you, Sam. And I thought I'd never see you again," he said in a hushed tone, and then smiled large, eyes twinkling. "But you've come."

Then Sam kissed Frodo, leaning in with such intensity that they nearly fell backwards. His lips held nothing back in demonstrating exactly how he felt, and Frodo met them with equalled intensity; tongue finally meeting and savouring a place it had always longed to touch. The pair stayed locked in this embrace until Sam's grip loosened and he pulled away shakily.

"I love you too, more than you'll ever know," whispered Sam. Then, he was silent for a while and stared down at his rough hand as Frodo stroked it. Finally, he spoke again. "My mind won't get unstuck from thinkin' of... Well, you were… Stuck by that dreaded beast. It made you seem… Dead, Mr. Frodo… I thought you were dead too, then all a sudden the orcs took you, sayin' you weren't. I feel a fool, for it's my fault in the end. I couldn't find you. For too long I couldn’t."

Frodo looked at him with love. "You have me now, my dear Sam,' he said, and embraced Sam long as Sam sniffled into his shoulder. "You're not at fault for a single part of this dreadful quest," he continued. Then, he drew back and smiled warmly at his companion. Sam's eyes remained downcast.

"You’ve become like a knight in an old fairy-story; my Samwise the Stouthearted!" said Frodo with cheer, trying to shake Sam from the evil memories. He leaned in and gave Sam's lips a small peck. "Why, you've even freed me with a kiss."

A corner of Sam's mouth twitched, and he wiped his eyes. "My Gaffer told those types when I was a boy, but Bilbo's always said they’re not real happenings, as it were." He managed a smile. "I suppose old Bilbo’ll be surprised to learn of your becoming the real live princess of one."

Frodo laughed long. "Yes, verily," he said, and giggled some more. The joyous sound rang all throughout the evil room, bringing a warmth to Sam’s face and the still air itself.

The two hobbits lay against each other then, and stayed like that for a while resting. After several minutes passed, Sam had mustered a little bravery, and he said quietly, "If you don't mind my asking, Mr. Frodo, how long have you wanted me like that?"

Frodo smiled, but his eyes looked sad. "I held myself back for so very long, my dear. I'm afraid I felt that I would ruin something sacred, or worse, that you would mind." He looked to Sam, his eyes wide. "Did you mind, Sam?"

Sam looked quite shocked. "Begging your pardon sir, but I've wanted to feel your mouth like that since the very day I first clapped eyes on you. I just never thought you'd see anythin' in me, average as I am."

Frodo was incredibly glad at this confession, but his brow scrunched in confusion, and he sat up a little. "Sam, my dear, why, you are average as a sunset is average," he said, and stared up into the distance for a moment, searching for the right words. 

As he looked back at Sam, serenity washed over his face like a clear ocean wave and he continued, "For when our faithful old sun sinks into the western hills each night, she lends a new shade to the sky, and to clouds made fresh that morning. And all who are struck by a new night's glimpse of her are taken in like a babe; awed by each new view."  
  
When he had finished, Frodo offered Sam a light smile. Sam stared at him, mouth agape. "Why, I, I don't know about... Gee, sir..."

Frodo was not about to let him get away with that response. "How could you doubt yourself so? Sam, I am quite feeble, and odd in appearance at best. Why, you've got that lovely golden mop, your face is quite jarringly handsome, you're sturdy in your limbs and sure in your hands, your belly betrays good breeding and full meals-"

"Sir, you're mighty kind, and that's all well and good for other hobbits perhaps, but you see, well, you're... Well... Uhh, elfin." He looked incredibly embarrassed to be admitting this out loud.

In spite of himself, Frodo exploded in a fit of laughter. "So that's the reason for all the fuss, then? All this time Samwise, all these years you've been looking at me as a degenerate little elf! Underfed in youth, perhaps?"

Sam was blushing a deep crimson, but laughed lightly. "I guess maybe somethin' like that, sir, but quite a lot nicer lookin' than you're describing."

But Frodo Baggins was not a hobbit who readily stopped pulling once he had found a good thread, and a mischievous smile grew on his face. "Ah, I see, and this is why you're always getting me to recite my Sindarin poetry over dinner? Why, you little scoundrel! Imagining me as your tiny elf lord, are we? Marvelling at my skilled lips? Wondering what they might feel like on your -"

"Ahhh, haaaa," said Sam loudly with a frightened smile, cutting Frodo off. He looked as if he had been caught in the act of doing something quite uncouth.

Frodo rocked about with laughter for a few moments more before finally quieting and looking back to Sam with a huge smile. "I'm only teasing. I swear I find it quite flattering, really." He raised an eyebrow and bit his lip. "Though I admit I am a little intoxicated by the idea of you perceiving me in such a way... I may get quite the dangerous opinion of myself yet, my dear, you had best be on the lookout! I suppose I have simply never thought of myself as anything other than quite unnaturally bony."

Sam straightened up, grateful for an opening into a less embarrassing direction. "Ay that's nonsense, sir. You've always been a perfect sight to me. A... A cool drink of water from a clean hidden stream!" Sam looked quite proud of himself for coming up with something he felt worthy of saying to Frodo, who blushed and smiled warmly. 

"Oh, thank you dearly, Sam."

"And besides that, you're just above me intelligence-ways, sir, I could never keep up. Memorizin' all those tales and such as you do," Sam added.

Frodo's face fell. "Oh Sam, please don't say such things!" He put his hand on Sam's cheek. "Any talent I have with words is only due to having nothing better to do with my time than laze about reading. Why, a hobbit who labours in the fields and gardens among his kin-folk is likely to be wiser by the end of his days than one who sits alone by the hearth, lost in a page. That is the hobbit I want by my side; a hobbit of the road and the hills. The great works are written of lives well-led, not lives spent in a chair, after all."

Sam smiled abashedly. "You're always managin' to put things in a way I never thought of just yet; of makin' it all come together just right." He moved in and held Frodo against his chest. "If I've anything to say of it, once I've gotten you out of this awful mess - and I will, mind you - you'll never again be sat alone in that hearth, not for even a single one of your days."

Frodo felt a swell of emotion rise up in his chest. "That is the most wonderful offer that has ever graced my ears," he said, relaxing into Sam's chest. 

After a few minutes of laying together, Frodo spoke again, very quietly now. 

"Please, my love, promise me you will never doubt your abilities or worth in this world. For every high opinion you may hold of me, you must remember I share the same thoughts of you."

"Aye, I promise," said Sam, and pet his head gently.

At that, a heavy tiredness set over Frodo. He knew they should be on their way, but there was only room for Sam in his arms. Why should he fret about anything else? He allowed his mind to run free, and it filled itself with words Sam had spoken to him.

In a short time he fell asleep, and his light breathing was a dear comfort to Sam, who was glad to keep watch over him. But there was not much time. It was not enough for him to climb the tower and slay the dragon, he had still to save his dear Frodo.

* * *

  
_Sam kissed his Master’s forehead. "Come! Wake up Mr. Frodo!' he said, trying to sound as cheerful as he had when he drew back the curtains at Bag End on a summer's morning._

Frodo awoke. The pink glow Sam had brought back to his cheeks had fallen to a ghastly pallor as he slept. Visions of fire had passed under his eyelids, and a knot formed in the pit of his stomach. Sam stood before him. "Come Mr. Frodo, we must get on with our journey then! Quite risky business, gettin' friendly with you for long up here I’m afraid," he said, glancing at Sting lying on the floor, half-unsheathed, and safely silver for now.

Frodo did not move. His heart pounded and he began to feel ill with a creeping stress which radiated from his very core. Under the cloak, his hand crept slowly up to his chest, where it rested for a moment before frantically grasping for his neck. 

Sam walked round him, putting together discarded orc armours and paying him no mind, as Frodo often lay long after he had been called.

Frodo's frantic hand knew what it sought, though he only became aware of its desire when it began to claw violently at his throat. A horrific slew of memories from the quest came pouring back. _That damned orc-drink! It dulled my mind!_ he thought, and felt a fell screech form deep in his gut. The comfort he had allowed himself with Sam felt as foreign and far away as this awful place he had found himself in.

Frodo gathered the terrible energy that built within him and sprang to his feet, throwing off the cloak fiercely. Grasping at his neck once more and finding nothing, he crashed to the floor with a terrible panicked groan and began tearing through the dirty rags on his hands and knees. 

Sam looked over to see his master turned away from him on the ground. "What’s happened, Mr. Frodo?" he asked, his voice tinged with worry. He touched Frodo's shoulder. 

Frodo shook him off with a gesture and continued to rifle through the dirty pieces of cloth. "What’s happened!" said Sam, shrilly now.

Casting the final rag aside with a horrible violence, Frodo turned around slowly to face Sam. He was crouching, thin and naked, surrounded by filth. He stared at Sam with great horror, a pitiful and ugly expression about his beautiful face.

"It's gone, Sam," said Frodo, his voice filled with horror. "The orcs stole the Ring. It's over." He crumpled to the floor, beating the stone with his fist and yelling "NO!"

Sam stood over him, shaken by Frodo's screams. "Please sir, it's alright."

"What don't you understand! It's over!" Frodo yelled.

Sam stepped back, frightened. "No, sir, I... took it. It's alright. It's safe, sir." Frodo stopped moving and Sam stepped hesitantly forward to console him, but stopped as Frodo spoke.

"You mean to say… You took the Ring, Sam?" Frodo's eyes grew, and a terrible and menacing fog rolled within them. 

Sam felt a strange fear grip him, and without thinking, he reached for his chest where the Ring hung on its chain, safely hidden by his shirt. 

Seeing this small gesture, Frodo cried out and sprang upon him like a deranged animal, knocking Sam backward onto the floor and straddling him. 

Sam lay helpless between Frodo's pale legs. He had landed upon the fallen orc's shorn hand, and cried out in pain. He tried frantically to sit up, but Frodo pushed him firmly back down and began kissing his neck forcefully. Sam groaned deeply, but did not know whether this sound drew from pain or pleasure, for this was something new.

Suddenly, Frodo tore violently at Sam's shirt and several buttons ripped off. He spread the shirt wide to expose Sam's naked torso; his chest hair blonde and thick. And finally, at long last... Frodo beheld the Ring. His eyes grew wide as his mouth opened in a horrible grin. Sam writhed. A twinge of anger passed across Frodo's face at Sam's defiance, and in a flash he held him down with a strength never shown before. Sam could not move an inch. 

Frodo leaned down and began to lick sensually at the chain round Sam’s neck. Sam stiffened in spite of himself. "What’re you doing?" he asked desperately, straining not to moan. He did not know if this was a show of true affection and gratefulness, or if Frodo was toying with him like a foul beast might with its dinner. And why, oh why did the idea of Frodo as a foul beast delight him so?

Frodo said nothing, and began biting and licking passionately down Sam’s neck. His breathing became laboured, almost hissing as he licked Sam’s sweaty chest. _No..._ thought Sam, _He just wants the damned ring..._

As this thought entered Sam's head, Frodo shivered in ecstasy on top of him and held him down tighter. Frodo raised his head and looked at Sam with eyes now huge and flaming. The Ring was held lightly between his teeth; its chain still about Sam’s neck. Frodo was terribly beautiful to behold and seemed lit from within by some evil inferno. Sam strained in his pants at the sight of him, and Frodo, feeling this, gave a devilish smile and began to grind his naked frame against Sam's stiffness.

Sam had experienced jealous rages that the Ring sparked in Frodo many times, but never like this. Frodo was terribly ashamed of such outbursts and seemingly would never even dream of engaging Sam sexually while under such a power, though Sam had always wondered if he might be driven to it. A deep and constant arousal had been awakened in Sam by being threatened by his small Master and forced to submit to his angry will in the past weeks. He was always left undeniably hard and aching after being put in his place, and his head swam in a useless lusty haze until he excused himself to go spit into his hand and spill his maddening desires out. He found that his fantasies grew with every passing day, and had taken to stealing off constantly to moan for Frodo as he stroked himself into release. It was his only option if he did not want his breeches tenting all day. Sam had always worked hard to hide his arousal from his Master, fearing his indiscretions would jeopardize their friendship and the quest. 

But Sam would not stifle his moans this time, for everything had changed, and Frodo had him for whatever his crazed wishes might be. Sam looked quickly to Sting's blade, and it did not glow. He bucked back through the fabric and looked down to see Frodo fully erect, his tip leaking on Sam's stomach. Sam had wished so long to see him like this, and the sight was intoxicating. He looked back into Frodo's blazing eyes, and when they burned into him, Sam felt like he was his twisted sexual property, and his breathing turned ragged at the thought. 

Frodo leaned down closer to Sam's face. His blood flew hot through his veins and he delighted to see Sam struggle in mind and body beneath him, hardness begging to be touched. Frodo trailed a hand down between their bodies and Sam moaned loudly. Frodo moved the Ring into his cheek. "What do you want me to do, Sam?" he said into Sam's ear. 

Sam felt a rush of arousal and he averted Frodo's eyes. "Ah, I, I don't know, I don't want to be bold," he stammered, his conscience barely containing the bucking bull of his desires. 

"Do not disobey me, Sam," said Frodo angrily, and brought his hand around Sam's throat. He squeezed lightly. "Tell me."

Sam was driven mad with lust by this new sexual aggression, and his eyelids fluttered as he looked back into Frodo's vexing eyes and moaned. There was no use fighting it anymore. The bull broke loose. "I... I want you to touch me," he gasped out. "I've always longed for it sir... When you get like this."

"Ahh, that's better. Good," Frodo chuckled darkly as he basked in Sam's desire. "Touch you like this, dear?"

Frodo deftly slipped into Sam's breeches and grasped his impressively thick shaft. Sam let out a loud, drawn out "Ohh," and melted underneath Frodo. Frodo adjusted to hold both him and Sam in his small hand and stroked them gently as one. Frodo's eyes flickered and rolled back as his breathing grew deep and drawn out. The Ring flashed in his teeth. He felt all-powerful and huge. 

Sam was in heaven. He'd never imagined he could feel so good, or really believed that this could happen to him outside of his dreams. "Thank you, sir," he groaned.

Frodo drooled all about the Ring now, and the wet dripped slowly down his face and onto Sam, who whimpered and moaned at the array of sensations. Frodo squeezed at the sides of his neck harder, and Sam whimpered at a higher pitch. After a moment, Frodo loosened his grip, and Sam gasped. Frodo withdrew his other hand and slowly brought it to his face. It smelled deliciously of Sam's hot sweat. 

Frodo collected the drool from his chin into the palm of his dainty hand, and stared into Sam's eyes as he placed his upturned hand on Sam's chest. Then, tilting his head down, he let a huge cascade of drool pass over the Ring and down into his hand. Sam let out a lust-filled groan at the sight. 

Carefully bringing his dripping hand back to their aching members, Frodo stopped short of touching either, and watched Sam writhe, looking down at him with a most evil grin. He allowed Sam to grit his teeth, until Sam broke enough to beg again. Finally, Sam whimpered, "Please, sir, please touch me again."

Frodo smiled and grasped both shafts with his drenched hand. Sam cried out and moved beneath him like a serpent caught under a stone. Frodo pushed down on him hard and stroked them both quickly now. His spit warmed easily, and soon became hot and pleasant. Their members slipped about in Frodo's hand until it pained them to hold on. "You're making it ache, sir, it feels so good it almost hurts," said Sam. 

Frodo suddenly slowed his stroking and looked down menacingly at him. "You will do exactly as I say, Sam. You are under my command. Understood?"

Sam liked this development very much. "Yes! Yes, Master Frodo sir."

"Do you want me to release you Sam?"

"Oh, yes... Terribly so sir."

"Then beg me for it. You must earn my permission."

Sam moaned, shocked and aroused by this command. "Oh, please sir, I need to burst."

"Perhaps..."

"Please, I'll do whatever you wish of me!"

Sam groaned long, for he had never been pushed to such ecstasy. "You're so powerful, master. I can't hold on, please sir."

Frodo's gaze flashed back down at Sam. His cock swelled from Sam's words. "Yes, you're doing so good, Sam, you're pleasing me so much," he cooed, and stroked Sam's cheek with his thumb as his other hand began to stroke just a little harder.

Sam whimpered. "I really need to shoot, sir, I can feel it coming. Please allow me."

Frodo's eyes glinted as he continued stroking. "Mm, not yet, your words make me feel too good."

Sam was sweating hard and began to pant. His hands reached out to grip the stone floor beneath them. "Please! Let me cum, sir!"

Frodo kept the same speed and stared at Sam with evil delight. Sam's eyes were screwed shut and he let out a groan through his gritted teeth.

"Now. Cum now," commanded Frodo, and suddenly stroked both of them with great speed,

"Oh, master," Sam breathed deeply. "Oh, I'm going to-" and he came with loud grunts, long and hard all over himself and Frodo's hand. He gasped for breath.

Frodo watched this scene and felt a great rush. He continued to stroke them as one, and Sam began writhing again. "Whaa- Mr. Frodo, sir..." Sam said, shrilly.

"Tell me who owns you," Frodo said.

Sam's face was twisted with the overwhelming sensation. He said nothing but was breathing very heavily. 

"You promised you would do whatever I wished! Now, to whom do you belong!"

"You, sir! You're my master! I belong to you!" said Sam, and cried out in pleasurable agony as Frodo stroked harder.

"Yes, oh, take it," Frodo groaned, and his eyes rolled back into his head as he sucked the Ring with passion. He shot over and over, coating Sam's chest. Finally, he stopped stroking and Sam let out a deep sigh. 

They stayed still for a while. Frodo held the Ring inside his mouth. The blaze in his eyes was like a deep ember now, waiting to be provoked. He closed his eyes and hissed low to himself. "My..." he trailed off.

Sam's breathing was easy now. He stared up at Frodo and longed for him to lay astride him rather than sitting hunched up strangely upon him. _And was he muttering?_ He focused on Frodo's mouth, and the chain that came from within.

 _If only… the Ring weren’t involved_ , he thought. To know it drove Frodo's lust for control over him stirred something unpleasant within his mind. It roused him, and whether driven by worry or by some strange lust for it himself, he spoke in a low whisper. "You know, Master Frodo, I could help you carry the ring now. To share it, if you like-"

Sam stopped abruptly, as Frodo’s eyes had opened wide to stare down at him, and it felt as if he stared through his very being and deep into the earth far below them. Frodo's tongue darted around his mouth, feeling the Ring. He brought his slick hand from between their legs, and spat angrily into it. The Ring fell, gleaming, and Frodo shouted:

"NO!"

But the Ring was in Mordor a great deal heavier than any other metal of Middle Earth, and Frodo could not simply catch it from a fall. Hit by the weight of it, his hand dropped onto Sam’s chest and thudded heavily, knocking the breath out of the hobbit like a well-landed punch. He lay wheezing under his Master.

Frodo snatched his hand back up and pulled it close to his chest. The chain pulled sharply at Sam's neck. "I shan't let you have it, you little sneak! I know your tricks! It's mine! Mine I tell you!"

And then suddenly, as if awakened from a dream, Frodo shook his head a little, and looked almost calm for a moment; his eyes unfocused and hazy. However, as soon as he looked down to see Sam gasping beneath him, his face twisted into an expression of absolute horror.

"O Sam!" he cried, and put his fists over his face. "Why do I say such things? Why have I done such things! My poor Sam. My strong Sam, oh, what have I done?"

Frodo's face was wrung with shame, but he held the ring still tightly in a fist over his mouth. Sam shifted uncomfortably. "Well, you’ve gotten mighty strong to be calling me that, for one thing," he said, leaning up on his elbows now and pulling the orc hand out from under his back.

Frodo tearfully looked at Sam's clothes, all covered in dirt, sweat, and their cum, and he embraced Sam long, breathing him in deeply. "I'm sorry," he whispered, and Sam nodded and smiled weakly as they separated. 

Frodo reached around and took the chain from Sam's neck with care. He let the Ring dangle in the air before his face for a moment, then stared at it lowering slowly into his open palm before closing his hand upon it and looking at the floor.  
  
He drew a shallow breath. "I love you. I care for you so dearly, Sam. This is why I must carry the Ring myself. I need you safe." He looked down at Sam with despair. "It would steal your mind from you, Sam. It would strip it away piece by piece as it does mine. It would take you from my arms and leave a cruel shadow in your place. This task was appointed to me, and so I take it. But I will not let the Ring affect you more than it already does in my care." He looked to the evidence of his passions and winced. "I am sorry you should ever have to bear such jealous fits."

Sam was greatly pained by these words. "I understand Mr. Frodo. And I'm hopin' you understand it's just as hard for me to see you suffer through all that. Just please, remember you can count your Sam for whatever you might need." He paused and gave a half-smile. "And, if you're really worried, I think you should know sir, I rather enjoyed the, erm, touchy stuff, for what it's worth anyway. 'Cept for knockin' the wind out of me, you're welcome to do all that again if I'm honest."

At this, Frodo seemed to attempt a smile, but his eyes betrayed great sadness. He got up and walked into the corner, picking up the cleanest rag he could find, and returned to Sam's side. He looked lovingly into his companions eyes as he gently cleaned him up as best he could, closing Sam's shirt back up, pulling up his breeches, and kissing his ruddy cheek. Getting up once more, he dragged the cloth hastily across himself, disgusted, and walked to the corner again. Still naked, he faced the wall, and placed the Ring round his neck on its chain. His skin shone pale against the dark stones. He breathed in deeply, gathering his might to speak again. 

"The Ring... has broken into my very mind, Sam," he said quietly. "And it tears everything out. All of it. Even if by some miracle it is destroyed, I fear I shan't be out of its grasp." He frowned. "I have never experienced such unbridled... lust, I suppose. There is some deep red streak of passion and cruelty running through my very being, and the Ring draws it out of me constantly, without mercy." He turned to face Sam again, his fair face wrung with pain. "I did not know it was within me, Sam. And I do not know how to halt its treacherous flow. To demand such horrible things of _you_ , my dearest companion? How could I do such acts to one I love?'

Sam stood and walked to Frodo's side. "Please, Master, there's no reason to be gettin' hard on yourself. It's like I said, I enjoy you playin' with me, and anyway, I'm certain it's just an old trick of that Ring. You're no great evil being, only a hobbit!"

"I certainly hope you're right, Sam."

Frodo's eyes were downcast and full of shame, for even after relieving himself all over his companion, his head swam with the desires that had not stopped beckoning him since the moment he touched the Ring again. He looked at Sam's wide right hand, and all the times he'd watched him pleasuring himself through leaves and behind boulders raced through his mind. It had all become so predictable, so easy under the Ring's direction. Frodo could simply crash into Sam without explanation and beg to be held for a moment, or perhaps allow his semi-hardness to become visible through his pants as they lounged eating breakfast. Without fail, Sam would become flustered and run off saying he had to wee. It brought Frodo a perverse rush to see Sam resort to such debauchery for him. He always wished he could allow Sam his privacy, but the Ring drew a terrible and unquenchable virility from him, forcing him to follow every time. 

His arousal made him feel ill. Why must it be like this? Sam deserved a gentlehobbit, not the beast of lust that this terrible Ring had turned him into. For just a moment, he had been free of it, and he had been blessed with a joy he had never known possible. But the moment had passed. A greatly anticipated party rained out by a tree-breaking summer storm. He was within the crushing grip again.

"You know, Sam," he paused, steeling himself for what he was about to say. "Perhaps this was all a mistake. If you happen to feel the same, even by a hair, I urge you to leave me to this quest alone. It shall only get harder for me to control myself as we draw near the end. And, besides.. I do not own you, despite what my... nether regions might wish."

Sam laughed and shook his head. "Oh, don't be foolish Mr. Frodo, sir. You're just upset! To think I'd ever leave, goodness! Don't go on about such nonsense."

Frodo had expected that response. In his heart he know he would never have been able to speak the words if he truly believed Sam would leave. "Alright, and thank you, Sam," he said, and tried to smile comfortingly. "But please, there's no need for formalities. They've started to make me feel a little strange."

"Well alright then. Frodo," Sam wrinkled his nose. "Hrrmm. I dunno, sounds a bit off, don't you reckon?"

"It sounds perfectly fine to me, Sam."

They were quiet for a moment then. Sam looked at his feet, embarrassed. "Begging your pardon, but could I still use respectful names when things get... heavy, if you know my meaning? It sort of... got me goin', you see."

Frodo kept his face very still. "I see."

"I've just a mind to serve you better next time," he paused. "I... I'd really love to finally get a taste of you, you know sir," he blushed deeply, and hoped the mortification he felt admitting this would be worth it. If Frodo felt even a little better, it would be worth it. 

Frodo flushed as images of Sam moaning his name in the forest flashed through his mind. "Please, Sam... I... must put my clothes on." He looked round the room, averting Sam's gaze.

Sam was still crimson to the ears, but felt immediately proud of himself as he noticed Frodo's penis swelling. He felt a surge of bravery build in him, and boldly approached Frodo. "Are you sure of that, sir?" he said shyly.

Frodo forced a nervous laugh, and gently pushed Sam away. How was he possibly hard again? "I'm deadly serious, my dear. Do not tempt me," he said. In his mind, he saw Sam on his knees, mouth open, waiting. He turned around and looked out the window. "You may not like the outcome."

Sam impressed himself with a mischievous grin. His confidence grew as he realized exactly what he may be capable of. "And now, who are you to be sayin' what I'll like?" he said, and stepped closer again, for he had made up his mind.

He was going to free Frodo of that awful shame he carried. To truly prove that to him that he wanted the brunt of all that lust, all the time. Sam gathered all his courage, and reached around Frodo, firmly grabbing his hardness from behind.

With terrible speed, Frodo threw Sam's hand away and whipped around to face him. He glared into Sam, his eyes suddenly raging with an entirely unhobbitlike malice.

"Who am I? Who am I, Sam? I am the one whose mind is filled with thoughts of you choking on me," he spat, his words full of violence. "How about that? How does that make you feel? The one you love wanting to shove himself down your very throat? To shoot down it and force you to swallow? It's not natural. It's not right, you would never enjoy such evil things. Do not force my hand, Samwise! I cannot be trusted to hold back!"

Sam felt an immense rush of fear mixed with defiant delight. This was working better than he'd imagined. He brought his face right up to Frodo, who became paralyzed by anger and shock at this obstinance. "Then how abouts you make me enjoy it?" said Sam impishly.

Frodo nearly pushed him. He could not believe Sam had the gall to provoke him. He, who held all the power of the greatest ring in Middle Earth! "I swear to you, Gamgee. You are going to regret this with your entire being," he growled.

Sam was breathing very hard now, but smiled. "And how will you make me regret it?"

With that, Frodo's eyes flashed with the power of a thunderbolt. "On your knees!" he boomed.

Sam simply stared at him, grinning bravely with delight as he anticipated the delicious treatment that lay in store. 

Rage flared hot within Frodo. His hands shot up and grabbed Sam's head roughly. "I said... Get. On. Your. Knees!" he yelled, and pressed his forehead to Sam's as they struggled. Frodo's crazed eyes stared directly into Sam's and he pulled downward, hard. 

Sam gritted his teeth, not budging. His knees were locked. "You'll be needin' to try harder than that, sir," he managed.

Frodo let out a furious "Aghhh!" and reached behind Sam's legs with his heel, kicking the backs of his knees with one swift motion as he pulled Sam to the ground. Sam fell to his knees and moaned, basking in this defeat. 

Frodo gripped the back of Sam's neck and the base of his throbbing shaft. "Is this what you wanted? You wanted to drive me to this?"

Sam looked up into Frodo's eyes with feigned innocence. "Yes, master," he said, then opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue.

Frodo couldn't stand it. He shoved himself deep into Sam's throat and bliss overcame him. "Yes... Oh, take it," he groaned. 

The soft wetness engulfed his entire being. He had never felt such wonderful sensations. To think he denied himself this pleasure for so long was unfathomable. He thrust hard into Sam's hungry mouth, grunting loud with each pump and holding firm to the back of Sam's head. Oh, how he loved him, oh, how much he loved him.

Sam stared up at Frodo's face as it became lost in twists of pleasure. The Ring beat against Frodo's small hard chest as he entered Sam's mouth with increasing intensity. Sam's eyes watered and he accepted Frodo as deep as he could manage. He loved this sensation, of being used like a toy by Frodo... And oh, how good it felt to provoke him to this point. To be the one forcing him to lose control and follow the will of his body again.

"I'm going to do it inside you, Sam. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Dirty fool you are," said Frodo.

Sam's eyes widened with desire and he nodded and moaned, putting his hands behind his back and letting Frodo control the movement of his head entirely. Frodo increased his speed. He started to grunt and his hips bucked wildly. "Oh... I'm... bursting in you, Sam"

Sam shut his eyes and delighted in the taste of Frodo shooting all over his tongue and into the back of his throat. 

"Oh, Sam..." said Frodo, and pulled out of Sam's mouth slowly with a small gasp. He was spent. The terrible emotions had finally fallen from him, and he felt completely at peace.

Sam opened his mouth to show Frodo his sizeable load. The increase in virility provided by the Ring had certainly not just been in Frodo's head.

"Sam, you absolute fiend," said Frodo, looking down with admiration. Sam closed his mouth and swallowed. 

Frodo sank to his knees and hugged Sam hard, pulling him to his chest and rubbing the back of his head for some time. Then he pulled back and kissed him deeply. Sam kissed back harder. He put his tongue in Frodo's mouth and they both delighted at the taste, moaning into each other.

Eventually, Sam pulled away and sat, his knees pulled to his chest. "Well... How was that, erm, Frodo?" he asked.

Frodo gave a deep sigh of relief and smiled. "I cannot begin to express how pleasurable that was, my dear, thank you," said Frodo, rubbing his brow. "I truly did not think you had it in you, I'm embarrassed to admit."

Frodo reached out to rub Sam's knees and looked at the floor. "I had always wanted to do it - to do it to you - so badly, even without the Ring, but... The shame, it just crushed me to pieces. And with the Ring... Well it has been all I can think of sometimes. It had all become very painful to ignore, but even harder to think about, somehow.' He paused and looked back up at Sam. "I'm terribly sorry for lashing out. And I hope you know, you're far from a fool, my love." He leant over and kissed each of Sam's dirty knees. 

Sam blushed and smiled shyly. "It's alright, honest. Gave me a right rush. I ought be pardoning myself, for I'm the one who's pushed you to do it without askin' you first. I knew you couldn't control yourself, but that's what I liked about it. I hope you understand, I got all excited wantin' to stop you feeling so awful about it all."

Frodo smiled back at him. "Yes Sam, I understand. That was quite the titillating little display!' he laughed. "You're a disobedient little brute, aren't you?"

Sam's eyes twinkled. "Hey there, I went easy on you this time!"

"As did I," said Frodo, and winked.

They hugged again. Sam looked at Sting out of the corner of his eye, relieved to see the blade a cool silver.   
  
"Well, I s'pose we ought to get on our way now. It's a damned near miracle we haven't been caught in the act, really," said Sam.  
  
Frodo nodded, looking sad, but did not break their embrace. 

The hobbits knew not what lie ahead, nor if any kisses could be stolen on that treacherous road that lay in wait. They knew not how their hearts might be changed in the impenetrable fog of the future, or if a future even existed in any recognizable form. They knew only that they loved each other, for better and for worse, in this dark chamber high in the acrid skies of Mordor. 

"Come on, Frodo dear, lets get you dressed."


End file.
